


O Brother Where Art Thou

by Darkmagyk



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Brothers, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Missing Scenes, but family feels in the pursuit of evil, hating the gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22662064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkmagyk/pseuds/Darkmagyk
Summary: Kronos needed his brothers to overthrow Uranus. Zeus needed his brothers to overthrow Kronos. It stands to reason that Luke needs his brother to overthrow Zeus.So Luke starts recruiting and makes a pitch.Chris, after years of being ignored by the gods, might just be happy to be nominated.
Relationships: Luke Castellan & Chris Rodriguez
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41





	O Brother Where Art Thou

**Author's Note:**

> So, here is the story of Luke and Chris that no one wanted or needed, but that I felt I should write. Somehow this is my first Percy Jackson fic.

Chris Rodriguez killed a monster on his way home from school and cursed the gods as he limped to his house. The stupid dragon had melted his bike _and_ taken a bite out of his leg. It didn’t seem to be life threatening, he’d wrapped his sweatshirt around it to stop the bleeding and then marched home as well as he could, wondering if his _dad_ thought he should be thankful it was just a dragon and not a drakon. 

He passed four different bike racks on his way home, two dozen bikes and two dozen combination locks. Chris’s hands twitched at the thought of it, the ease with which he knew he would be able to feel the correct numbers and grab a bike for a quicker trip home. 

He didn’t take the bait. 

Just because he spent camp with liars and thieves didn’t mean he should be one. They were kids of Hermes. He was unclaimed. His father didn’t want him, so he would proceed as he alway had, ignoring that part of him he knew was there and true and not good enough. 

As he rounded the corner to his street, he saw a blond guy walking from the far end down the sidewalk, and he felt kind of like taking his knife out of his backpack and chucking it at the guy. Just because he could. From this distance, the guy could have been Luke. And Chris wasn’t sure if he hated anyone quite as much as he hated his stupid former counselor. 

When he’d disappeared from camp, and rumors about what happened with him and the new kid, the freaking son of Poseidon, had started going around, a bunch of people hadn’t even believed it. When the truth had been announced over lunch on the last day, the shock had been palpable. Luke’s siblings had all been beyond distressed. The Stolls had taken it really hard. Little Maya Gate looks like she’s about to burst into tears. A bunch of the minor god kids, who knew their parents but had never been able to find a proper place at camp were sad. Cabin 11 under Luke was one of the places they had found something like a home. He was always up to steal some supplies from the camp store for you, and if he caught one of his actual siblings stealing from you, he almost always made them give you your stuff back. 

But the unclaimed kids, off to the side and knowing they were last on the camp social ladder, shared a look not of sorrow or despair, or even the pity that was coming from all the other cabins. They shared anger. 

Luke had been claimed. Luke had been important. Luke’s dad had sent him gifts and a quest. 

And he went and had the right to be angry. That lucky son of a bitch. At that moment they all hated him. 

But Chris, unclaimed, but who knew the truth of his existence, let the hatred boil in his gut, even three months later. 

Hermes loved Luke. And Luke got off acting like he was so put upon. 

Still, it wouldn’t do to throw celestial bronze at mortals. It wouldn’t hurt them, and it would just get him weird looks. His neighbors already didn’t trust him. Troubled brown kid with no dad who’s mom was never around? Not exactly popular in their suburban neighborhood, even though he was pretty sure half of them probably read his mom’s travel column and fell all over themselves imagining they’d get to go on her glamour vacations. 

He was only three houses away when he noticed that the black SUV wasn’t in his neighbor's driveway, where it should have been, but was in fact bigger than the one his neighbor was using to compensate for something with, but was also in his driveway, and the blonde guy wasn’t just strolling but was pacing back and forth down the street, but never going to far from his house. 

He should have pulled out his knife when he had the chance, because whatever this was, couldn’t be good. 

He braced himself and kept walking. He was no Athena kid (or was he? No, he definitely wasn’t) but he could talk himself out of a situation. 

His mom was well known, too, maybe it was just a weird stalker. 

He could hope for the best. 

The guy was as tall as Luke, but closer Chris could see that his hair was considerably shorter and was wearing khakis and a button down of all things. He was also walking in the other direction from him, so if he was lucky, Chris could just sneak around the giant SUV and get inside, and be ignored by dragons and monsters and weird blond guys who reminded him of how much his dad didn’t love him. 

He was just about to ease his way around the car when the guy turned and his eyes landed on Chris, giving Chris a very clear look at his face. 

Chris swore very loudly in ancient greek. 

Luke had the nerve to laugh as he picked up his pace to meet Chris at the car. 

“Sorry,” Luke said, he smiled, and Chris had never thought the scar hurt his smile, which was always nice and fraternal, but now combined with the new haircut and the professional clothes, it made Luke look much more serious and severe. Like he was smiling now, but that wasn’t a guarantee. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t” Chris gritted out, “I just hate you.”

Luke’s smile actually fell, like that hurt him and wasn’t a completely expected and planned outcome of his previous life choices. 

“Because I betrayed the camp, and the gods.”

Chris rolled his eyes, “who cares about camp or the gods.” He snapped. Because really, all that camp and the gods had ever done for him was get dragons to take chunks out of his legs. “Or, why should I care about them? They don't care about me. But everyone knows Dad-” He cut himself off quickly, and then tried again “Everyone knows your dad favors you. Sends you on quests and gives you flying shoes and all that junk.” He’d never actually spit at anyone before, but he does it at Luke, now. Chris wasn’t an Apollo kid either, his aim was off, it landed on cement a foot to his left. “Where do you get off going against him, against them, when we’ve all been left behind and forgotten.”

“Chris,” Luke said, taking a step towards him. Chris took an unsteady step back. His leg was apparently not really cooperating with backwards while injured and he winced in pain, but he didn’t fall over, which was something. Luke’s eye filled with concern, a look that Chris had seen dozens of times before, and then his eyes dropped to Chris’s leg. Chris’s eyes followed his. Blood was soaking through his sweatshirt, now. “What happened?” And Chris really could not escape Luke who ran forward and grasped his arm and shoulder to steady him, before marching him to the car. He opened it one handed and helped a reluctant Chris up into one of the seats. 

“Fight on the way home from school. Not a big deal.” Chris said as Luke unwrapped his sweatshirt. It was still bleeding, and some of the skin was turning an unnatural color. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Luke said, he leaned around Chris’s chair, but remained in the doorway, blocking Chris’s chance at escape, before straightening up, first aid kid in hand. 

He passed Chris a piece of ambrosia and then went about cleaning the wound. Chris wanted to resist. He wanted to kick Luke in the head, go inside, slam the front door and his bedroom door, and never think about any of this again. But his leg really hurt and the sting of the rubbing alcohol Luke was pouring on it only made it worse, so Chris munched on his ambrosia and tried to concentrate on his grandma’s chicken. 

“This is pretty bad, kid.” Luke said frowning at the wound.

“I’m not a kid,” Chris bit back after he swallowed the rest of his ambrosia. He looked down again, and hated to admit that any part of Luke was right. The bite had been on Chris’s calf, but even in October, Georgia weather allowed for shorts. Only his sweatshirt, for the occasional overzealous air conditioning, would be sacrificed. But the bite did look worse than he’d thought. Though the warmth of ambrosia was already spreading through him.

Luke smiled up at him, “Yeah, I guess you aren’t a kid anymore,” He acknowledged. “Thirteen and all that.” He went rummaging through the first aid kit and took out another square of ambrosia, then he split it in half twice, so there was just a bite, and handed it to Chris. “I’m going to wash this out with a little nectar, so I don’t want to risk any burning up.” 

“Might save me a bunch of trouble,” Chris muttered, popping the piece in his mouth. His grandma was dead, he’d never have her chicken again beyond this magic, and he couldn’t even really enjoy it because of the stupid gods. His stupid dad. 

Luke’s head snapped up and his face had gone hard and angry, like Chris had just realized it could, “Don’t say that,” he said, “don’t you dare say that.” It was a weird thing for the betrayer of the gods to be angry about, one more dead half blood. He knew Luke's escape from camp hadn't been without violence, and rumors were that he's done some nasty things before he'd run off, too. 

He didn’t say anything else as he wrapped Chris’s leg properly. The ambrosia and nectar were doing their job. Chris felt so much better. But that left to the elephant in the driveway. 

“Luke,” He said, “Why are you here?”

“Let's get you inside,” Luke said, helping him down and offering his support, “And we’ll talk.” 

They stumbled to his front porch, because Luke was basically supporting him to try and take weight off his leg, and Chris kept trying to fight it, because he didn’t need help. 

They eventually got inside, and Luke looked around the too big, too empty house with a furrowed brow. 

He didn’t say anything, though, as he helped Chris take a seat on the white couch.

“Not what you were expecting?” Chris asked, “yeah, everyone is always so surprised. My mom’s a travel writer. She made a name for herself by appealing to white upper middle class people’s obsession with the exoticism. And speaking Spanish to figure out the actual cool places in Mexico, Colombia, and Honduras and stuff. She met my dad in Greece, wouldn’t you know, her first assignment that wasn’t to a country that mainly spoke Spanish.” 

“A travel writer?” Luke sounded surprised “that’s so obvious.”

“Yeah, you’d think.” Chris had both thought about it expensive and very carefully not completed the obvious, as Luke put it, thought. He wasn’t going to now. He changed the subject. Sort of. “I never asked, never heard, who was your mom, Luke. What does Hermes go for?”

Chris had climbed walls of lava, he’d fought dragons and harpies and spirits. He’d thought that nothing was scarier than being opposite Clarisse La Rue during capture the flag, and knowing that a hot girl was about to realize you weren’t that tough and their for probably not her Daughter of Ares type. He was wrong. The look on Luke’s face was the scariest thing he’d ever seen. 

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me, man” Chris said, because he might not know who his father was, what god, but he knew he was a god. Chris was a demigod, and that comes with certain hazards, like impulsiveness, and a delayed fear response. “But you did show up at my house. And follow me inside.” he tries for a shrug “I could be bleeding on the side of the road right now. Instead of getting glared at by a traitor.”

Luke didn’t laugh, like he would have at camp, but the dark look left his face. He sighed, “I’m recruiting.” 

“For what?” Chris asked. That had not trickled down, at least not to the unclaimed before Chris had left camp. 

Luke smiled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes, it made his scar stretch oddly along his cheek, almost plasticy, like a cartoon villain. “Kronos.”

Chris blinked. 

And then stared at Luke for a long moment because he must have misheard, he couldn’t mean “Kronos?” 

“Kronos,” Luke said again.

“He was killed.”

“You can’t really kill a god that powerful, and Zeus certainly can’t.” He said the name Zeus like it was a particularly bad taste, something tied up with a particularly bad memory. “He’s stirring, and he has a plan. But I have a plan too.”

“But Kronos,” Chris shivered at the thought “All the stories say he was even worse than the gods.”

“Could it really be worse?” Luke asked. “I look around at the world, look at what western civilization has reaped on the world. Or even just really look and see what’s been done to the likes of us. I know you see it. I know you see it like I do.” Luke met Chris’s eyes, and Chris immediately looked down at his sneaker. 

“I’m recruiting demigods, and I came to you first because I know you can feel it too.”

“You came to me first?” Chris asked, skeptically “And not Annabeth Chase? Or the new Poseidon kid?” Luke had always paid the annoying Athena girl so much attention. And though the rumors at the end of the summer about him and Percy Jackson had been sensational to say the least, before the quest Luke had seemed kind of obsessed with the kid.

Luke flinched, “That’s a work in progress. They would both, of course, be valued members of our team.” It's a weird thing for Luke to say. Stilted and corporate. “But I wanted a brother.”

Chris felt the ambrosia turn in his stomach. 

“You have a lot of those,” Chris said, very carefully, “They all turn you down?”

“Chris,” Luke said, his voice soft and low, like he used to talk to the new kids at camp, all scared and out of place “We’ve played this game for two years, we can’t do this anymore.”

“It's not a game,” Chris snapped, “it's the truth, the only truth I’ve got. My life.” 

“Chris,” Luke started again, “We both know you’re a son of Hermes, just like me.”

No one had ever said it out loud. Not even Chris. He’d only been able to bring himself to actually think the words, not just weave together the circumstances and implications, a few times. 

Despite himself he looked up at the white ceiling of his mom’s living room, as though expecting a giant Hermes to appear and strike them down with his caduceus for speaking such things. It was a stupid thought, Chris knew Hermes didn’t care about him.

“This is what the gods have done,” Luke said, “Like you said, it's not a game. It's your life. You get attacked by dragons and then feel guilty about knowing that Hermes is your dad. He doesn’t let you have a proper place in his stupid cabin, with your siblings.”

Chris looked away from him again, and as he turned his head caught sight of both of them sitting across from each other in the mirror on the wall. Luke’s blond hair contrasted with Chris’s dark, and from Chris’s angle he couldn’t see both of their faces at once. But he knew they had the same mischievous smile, the same one Connor and Travis and Maya and the rest of the claimed Hermes kids did. Or they would, if Chris ever bothered to smile anymore. 

“The gods, the Olympians should have been overthrown centuries ago.” Luke said, “They’ve been resting on us to protect them for far too long, and in return they send us on hopeless quests, or locked up away, or don’t acknowledge us, or drive our mortal parents insane.” 

Chris looked back at Luke, and thought that maybe that bit wasn’t meant for him. 

“And Kronos?” Chris asked.

“We hate our Dad, Kronos can hate his sons,” Luke said, like it wasn’t a big deal, and like it didn’t make Chris feel a little queasy, even if it was true. “He wants our help, to give us our due.”

“And what about you?”

“I told you already, I want my brother.”

That word again. It was enticing. 

“And it will be better?”

Luke stood up then, and rested his hand on Chris’s shoulder. “A new golden age for you to enjoy, little brother.” He smiled. A picture rested on the mantle over Luke’s shoulder. Chris when he was 7. The smiles mirrored exactly, and on reflex, Chris smiled back. It all felt wrong, but also, he wasn’t sure if anything had ever felt so right. At least not since he’d learned the word demigod, had figured out he was a half-blood.

“What do you want from me?”

“Kronos has lots of quests for us. Things worthy of us. No more waiting around and endless training.” 

He’d spent two years going to Camp Half Blood and training for a destiny that never seemed to manifest. Unclaimed losers didn’t get to go on quest. The dragon who had attacked him today hadn’t even seemed to be aiming for him, it was probably just in the area and smelled a half-blood errant. 

“Kronos needed his brothers to overthrow Uranus, Zeus needed his brothers to overthrow Kronos temporarily. I need my brother to help overthrow Zeus.” 

Luke used to say that everyone at camp was one big family. And the Rodriguezes were large and extended. But beyond his grandmother, Chris had often felt like an island in both, a superfluous part that no one really needed. 

“Come on,” Luke stood up and didn’t actually wait for Chris’s answer. “I’ll help you pack.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out on [tumblr](http://darkmagyk.tumblr.com/). There is lots of Percy Jackson and I literally always want to talk about it with other people.


End file.
